


lonely in a crowded space

by hipboned



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: /Cisswap, Bullying, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fingering, Genderswap, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, Smut, but not Niall and Zayn, cisgirl!Harry, cisgirl!Liam, cisgirl!Louis, football NOT captain!harry, football captain!louis, harry is bad at football and louis is semi-famous, it's sort of both a high school au and a coffee shop au idk you'll see, sorry i guess it's kind of a crime to not swap zayn when you have the opportunity, thigh riding, this entire thing is hard to explain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipboned/pseuds/hipboned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry runs a coffee shop and Louis is half-famous. They meet again years after a turbulent past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lonely in a crowded space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juliusschmidt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/gifts).



> Hi friends! I won't say much here except for that this is for [Alex](http://www.juliusschmidt.tumblr.com) juliusschmidt. Alex, I hope it's at least somewhat like you were hoping for! I had the best time writing it. Also an incredibly huge thanks to my betas, who shall go unnamed until I can go...named.
> 
> Edit: I'm finally connected to the internet for the first time in days after moving to college, so I can finally edit this! I have to give huge credit to my betas, [Chelsea](http://www.ilreland.tumblr.com) and especially [Bri](http://www.calumsdickhat.tumblr.com) (who held my hand through this and dealt with my procrastination and timing problems amazingly even though she was halfway across the world from me. Thank you Bri).
> 
> I don't have any relation to One Direction or anyone else mentioned in this fic, it's a work of complete fiction. The title comes from Rita Ora's "Been Lying".

Harry rests her elbows on the counter before her, drumming her fingertips in time with the raindrops hitting the pavement outside. She can’t feel it, but she knows it’s spectacularly cold beyond the walls of the coffee shop. For a moment she’s grateful for the warmth that her workplace provides, a little haven in the midst of busy, restless London. It would seem that the heart she’s put into creating the place is reflected back at her; the hanging lights overhead produce a comforting glow, the aroma of warm coffee and tea works almost as a blanket, the patrons all have soft little smiles on their faces. A few paces away, Niall calls out, “Two vanilla lattes?” in his light Irish accent, and an older man, perhaps sixty with square glasses and graying hair, shuffles up with his wife’s hand in his.

Harry brushes a stray curl off her shoulder and grins to herself. She’s so proud of this place.                                         

It wasn’t exactly her original dream to own her own coffee shop. Originally, she’d wanted to be a musician, and she’d moved down to London to achieve that dream. But life had other plans for Harry, as it often does. She hadn’t taken risks quite enough, hadn’t fully believed in herself quite enough to make it. Sometimes, she does regret that. But on nights like this one, she doesn’t feel so bad that what started out as just a job to make some money had turned into something much more. She’d started out just working at the coffee shop. When the previous owner had gone bankrupt, Harry realized she could use the money she’d saved up to buy it for cheap—bought it, completely remodeled it, opened it up for business, and has made good money ever since.

It’s just when she’s thinking about how content she is with the way things are that she hears Niall say, “Louis Tomlinson? Holy shit!”

And it’s just like— oh no. Louis Tomlinson. That’s a name she never thought she’d hear again.

Okay, so that’s not exactly true. Harry had heard Louis Tomlinson’s name plenty of times since graduation from school, where she remembers breathing a sigh of relief distinctly because she wouldn’t ever have to be around Louis again. Funny, that. Of course, the world had decided to make Louis a star, so that Harry wouldn’t be able to get away from her at all.

In fact, Harry’d seen her on television just the other day, accepting a BAFTA award for Best Comedy Programme. Harry had spitefully tried not to notice how beautiful she looked on the screen (in her blue full-length gown with an overlay of black lace) when she’d stood up to accept the award for _Better Than Words_ , the television programme she’d created and directed. Louis had always been pretty in school, but the way she shone at the BAFTAs kind of made Harry want to wring her neck, vomit, and then masturbate consecutively.

She hadn’t done any of the three; just glared at the telly screen in her small flat while Louis was looking filthy rich and popular as she’d ever been, dressed in one-of-a-kind Prada and with a gaggle of adoring cast and crew around her as she made a lovely and humble acceptance speech—with a wise crack or two thrown in. That’d always been her style.

Now, Harry turns to look at her in hopes that: One; it’s not actually Louis Tomlinson. Two; Louis Tomlinson doesn’t recognize her. Three; Louis Tomlinson actually is not as attractive as she looks at award shows.

Turns out, it is Louis Tomlinson. And she is as attractive as she looks on screen. And on the internet, that _one time_ Harry had deigned to look her up.

Harry doesn’t know if Louis recognizes her yet, though, as she’s occupied in conversation with Niall. A smile rests flatteringly on her pink lips, and there’s light in her blue eyes; she’s clearly as delighted and entertained by Niall as everyone else is upon first meeting him.

Harry resists the ugly urge to roll her eyes. It comes upon her for absolutely no reason, and she shakes it away as soon as she realizes it’s there.

But then, Niall’s saying, “You can order from Harry over there,” and Louis’ focus settles on her for the first time in almost a decade.

Her gaze is just as clear and sharp as Harry remembers. And she can see the exact moment when Louis recognizes her, because her eyebrows arch up, her shoulders drop, and her mouth opens the tiniest bit.

Then, a cloud of what must be guilt washes over her face. She crosses her arms, clutching at her own elbows self-consciously when she asks, “Harry Styles?” like she doesn’t want to hear the answer.

_Yeah_ , Harry thinks. _It’s me._

 

-

 

“Come on, Harry! Control the goddamn ball!”

Harry winced as her coach’s cries reached her ears all the way from the sidelines of the football pitch. And if she could hear it, everyone else on her team could definitely hear it as well. How embarrassing.

It didn’t really matter, though. All of her teammates knew she sucked at footie, and were more fond about it than they were condescending. She barely got any play time in actual games anyway, so it’s not like she was messing with their record. They all kind of loved that she was there, actually, found it hilarious.

Well, all except for one.

As Harry kicked her foot back to make a shot at the goal, a bony elbow jabbed her in the side and caused her to stumble away from the ball. “I’ll take it, Styles,” Louis grunted as she stole the ball away and made a shot of her own. The goal was flawless, as usual. Right past Li’s fingertips and into the corner of the net.

Harry sighed as Li jogged over to her from her position as goalie, extending a hand to help her up off the grass. “Why so competitive?” the brown-eyed girl called to Louis, who was stalking back their direction with one hand on her hip and the other wiping sweat from her brow. “We’re only in practice.”

“It’s a scrimmage,” Louis shrugged good-naturedly, giving Li a little smile. “You’re supposed to give it all you’ve got.” But then she turned away without an apologetic glance at Harry, muttering “Sorry, Styles,” monotonously and clearly for show.

Li patted Harry’s back a couple times as reassurance while they watched Louis trot over to where their coach was calling an end-of-practice huddle. “I know,” Li said on an exhale, full eyebrows coming down over her eyes. “She’s kind of the worst to you.”

Harry rolled her eyes and started toward the rest of their team. “It’s okay, Li. What else is new.”

In the locker room, Harry changed quickly, folded in on herself and eyes kept down. She always tried mildly not to glance at the other girls—she didn’t know why, but it always felt invasive. Harry did realize that she was probably alone in this feeling, as everyone else on the team seemed to have no problem with making conversation and looking at each other while they changed. She could hear Li and Cara chatting right next to her at that exact moment.

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind her. “Styles,” Louis’ voice came shortly.

Harry wheeled around in surprise. And as much as she couldn’t admit it to herself, the sight she found really did take her breath away.

Louis stood before her, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised and lips appealingly pouty. Her arms were crossed impatiently under her breasts, pushing them up in the black, lacy bra that she’d clearly already changed back into. Harry gulped, really trying to meet Louis’ eyes. She’d always hated hearing boys use the word _tits_ , it had always sounded so gross and chauvinistic. But it was the only thing Harry could think; Louis had _perfect tits_. Her entire stomach was exposed too, of course, taut and toned. Harry wanted to die. Why couldn’t Louis put a shirt on before confronting her? Why couldn’t Harry stop looking at her boobs?

“Listen,” Louis’ high voice came in a slight rasp. “Not that playing striker brings out your weaknesses or anything,” she raised her eyebrows quickly and let them drop. It seemed to suggest that playing striker brought out Harry’s weaknesses. “But it certainly doesn’t highlight your strengths, and as captain, I’ve got to do what’s best for the team.”

Harry gulped. Some of the activity surrounding them stuttered to a pause. Clearly, Harry wasn’t the only one listening.

“I’ve spoken to Coach about permanently keeping you on defense,” Louis continued, “and he agreed that it might be a good idea. So from now on, during practice, you’ll only be training in that position.”

The embarrassed blush on Harry’s cheeks could be seen from miles away. She swallowed, and her voice came out weaker than intended when she asked, “That it?”

Louis brushed the ends of her ponytail over her shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks for cooperating.” Then she turned her back and walked away, hips swaying as she went. And despite all her humiliation and anger, Harry couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on her retreating form.

See, that was always the thing with Louis.

Li laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder from beside her and remarked, “I think that’s the meanest she’s ever been to you without trying to act like she’s not being mean.”

Harry huffed her agreement and Cara approached them from her locker. “Try not to let it get to you,” she reassured Harry while blowing a puff of air at a strand of baby hair hanging in front of her eyes. “It’s really all because she feels threatened by you.”

“How could she possibly feel threatened by me?” Harry argued. “She’s captain and I’m, well, definitely not captain.”

Cara shrugged. “You used to be the best, though.”

Harry didn’t even know whether Cara was complimenting or insulting her, much less the best way to respond to her, so she just let it lie without acknowledgement. “What’s that got to do with it? I’m dreadful now.”

“No, Cara’s right,” Li jumped in, head tilting to the side just a tad. “Think about it. When did Louis’ mean streak towards you first kick in?”

Harry thought back. She and Louis had known each other for a long time, gone to primary school together and all. “Second half of year nine?” she estimated.

Li let out a guffaw irregularly rough and loud for a girl of her general demeanor. “Right,” she said with shining eyes. “And I’ll tell you what I’ll never forget: that time just before the end of the first semester when you scored three goals in one half and won us the game. You were just in year nine, it was brilliant!”

Cara nodded fervently with an excited expression. “Or when you made that amazing goal that won us the championship that year!”

“But Louis gave me the assist there!” Harry protested.

“Oh, Harry,” Li smiled and shook her head fondly. “That just makes the jealousy worse on her end.”

“Alright, I get your point,” Harry conceded. “But that was all before I shot up like an awkward weed.”

She noticed both Li and Cara simultaneously throwing surreptitious glances at her chicken legs. Everyone knew it was true.

Li bit her lip in contemplation. “Old habits die hard, I suppose. Probably just got so used to being jealous of you that it stuck.”

Yeah. For like two years.

Cara, finished dressing, slung her sports bag over shoulder and said, “You never know, maybe Louis’ll come around. See you guys!” With a wave over her shoulder, she was gone.

Harry highly doubted that would happen.

 

-

 

The tapping of Louis’ fingers on her laptop keyboard is much, much louder than it should be. It’s possible that it only sounds that way to Harry; it’s possible that Louis still naturally holds Harry’s focus, even after all these years.

Harry grimaces as she gathers a customer’s change, disgruntled by the thought.

She can feel Niall throwing her curious glances from what must be only two feet away, but feels like a thousand. In stark contrast, Louis is front and center, sipping at her coffee and typing something out. She’s right in Harry’s eyeline, just visible over the pastry display. Harry wonders if Louis can feel her staring. She’s trying not to.

When Louis’ eyes flick over to her, she tries so hard to look casual that she ends up placing her hand on the hot coffee machine and harshly burning the right side of her palm, yelping at the pain that sears through her hand. Then everyone in the shop is looking at her. She escapes to the back room with her head down.

Louis has always been a distraction bigger than Harry wants her to be. The fresh burn on her hand is an infuriating reminder of that age-old fact.

She’s just tending to it with ice when Niall pokes his head into the room, eyes concerned. “Mate, you okay?” he checks.

“Better than ever,” Harry grumbles, thoroughly examining her split ends.

Niall’s head comes to a skeptical tilt, but he leaves it alone. “I’ll mind the counter, take as long as you like,” he says over his shoulder as he goes to return to his work. Harry heaves out a withering sigh.

There’s absolutely no reason that she should be so messed up over this. And it’s not like Louis is anywhere near as frazzled about her. With a bag of ice still pressed to her hand, she heads outside to reclaim her spot next to Niall at the counter.

Niall keeps peeking over at her shiftily, but she knows he won’t ask as long as it’s clear she doesn’t want him to. And for now, she definitely doesn’t want him to.

Harry can almost feel it when Louis stands up from her seat, and she can hope that she’s just going to use the toilet, but she knows it’s no use. Louis approaches the coffee shop counter with a wariness that’s so heavily veiled that Harry can barely detect its presence. It’s there, though. Louis’ delicate wrists come to rest on the counter. Harry wonders briefly, hopelessly, if she’s got a boyfriend.

“Can I get another coffee, but to go?” Louis asks her, voice light and blue eyes peeking up from under her long lashes. And really, how could Harry ever say anything but yes to her?

“Of course,” she says openly, and she hopes those two words somehow tell Louis that she doesn’t resent her for how she’d treated her in school. That she’d tried to resent her for years after, and thought she’d been successful, and is only just now realizing she hadn’t been. Louis smiles like somehow, impossibly, she knows.

Harry expects the other woman to go back to her seat, wait for Harry to come and bring her coffee to her when it’s ready, but she doesn’t. When Harry slides the cup across the counter and into Louis’ hands, she still doesn’t go. “I’ve got burn ointment,” she tells Harry. “It’d be good for your hand.”

“You’ve got it with you here?” is the only thing Harry can think to ask, tone far too surprised at this entire exchange.

“Well, no,” Louis allows, “but I can bring it for you, if you’d like.” Something in her eyes has gone soft, and if Harry didn’t know better she’d say it was affection. Harry’s trying to know better, she really is.

“It’s probably fine,” Harry replies as she exposes her open palms to Louis. “Baking’s kind of already done a number on my hands.”

Louis’ fingers come forward to trace the little light pink scars that freckle Harry’s palms. Harry hopes it’s not too obvious that she’s holding her breath.

The side of Louis’ mouth quirks up just barely. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got scar cream as well.”

Harry smiles too, then.

“I can bring it by tomorrow,” Louis suggests.

Harry’s eyebrows tick upwards. “You’re not, like…busy?” Louis is practically a celebrity now. She’s mostly behind the scenes of her work, directing, writing, producing, pitching. Still, Harry would wager that she gets recognized in the street every so often. And people like that are usually quite busy, no?

Louis visibly frowns, though. Hesitantly, she asks, “Do you not want me to?” Her breath is almost shuddering when she adds, “because I would understand.”

“No, I want you to,” comes tumbling out of Harry’s mouth immediately.

Then Louis’ grin reappears, and she says, “Alright then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” She looks down at her hands for a moment, fingering the cardboard sleeve on her coffee cup.  With one more glance, she’s turned around and gone.

 

-

 

Li’s car was dented in odd places and clearly hadn’t been washed in at least two months. It smelled as if someone had once stuffed hundreds of crayons in the glove compartment and then driven an equal number of miles through the desert with no air conditioning and the windows up. The tan leather was slightly discolored and scuffed; Harry’s middle finger brushed repeatedly over a scratch on the passenger’s seat. She had maybe never felt less glamorous.

Their parking spot sat a safe distance from Eleanor’s house, where they could nervously observe girls trickle in. Harry hadn’t quite built up the nerve yet to follow in their footsteps.

Harry’s surprise at even having been invited made sense. She and Eleanor didn’t talk much, only back in year ten when they sat next to each other in Chemistry class. Eleanor had always been pleasant then, but when they didn’t have classes together the next year, their interaction had faded into occasional polite smiles and small talk. So, year ten had pretty much been the prime of their tentative friendship.

Li, on the other hand, had spent most of the school year on yearbook committee with Eleanor—she’d blushed while telling many a story about Eleanor nicely correcting her grammar and spelling. Harry was probably  invited because Li was.

Harry opened the Twitter app on her phone while Li struggled to roll up the driver’s side window, which had fallen down and stuck during their drive. A lot of the recent tweets on her timeline read #tbttoyear8, which was the hashtag Eleanor and some of the girls going to her sleepover had come up with. When Harry reloaded her timeline, the first tweet to pop up was, of course, one of Louis’.

**Louis_Tomlinson:** _crew better be ready ! #tbttoyear8_

Attached was a picture of a ton of sweets, presumably for everyone coming. Awkwardly, Harry wasn’t sure whether Louis knew that Harry was part of the ‘crew’ for the night.

With a sigh, she turned to Li and said, “Just leave it the window down, we’re in the richest neighborhood in Manchester while simultaneously being in the shittiest car. No one’s gonna break into it.” Hastily, she tacked on, “No offense, though,” because Harry liked to be nice.

Li gave her an unimpressed look, but chose not to comment. “Alright, let’s just go.”

Eleanor’s home was, well, far more elegant than any other home Harry had ever been to before. It stood domineering as the largest mansion on the block, but also inviting in its light color scheme and detailed embellishments. The pale yellow walls and red roofing hinted at Spanish-style architecture. Little statues littered the front yard, scattered at the foot of many a sumptuous arch. When Harry knocked on the door, she could feel the smoothness of the dark mahogany under her knuckles, exquisite enough to seem as if the tree it was made from had been picked out, cut down, crafted and sanded specifically to fit the Calders’ open doorway.

Eleanor swung the door open as if she didn’t care for the luxury of it at all. Behind her, Perrie was hovering on her tiptoes to peek over the brunette girl’s shoulder at who was arriving, that being Harry and Li, of course.

“Hi!” Eleanor chirped, smiling so brightly that it made Harry smile as well. “Come on in,” she said, and they did so, Harry stumbling in as if she wasn’t good enough to be there, but Eleanor and Perrie didn’t even seem to notice.

They led Harry and Li up a wide staircase and around a few bends to Eleanor’s bedroom, where the giggles and chatter of teenage girls spilled through the gap under the closed door. When they walked into the room, they didn’t cause much of a disruption; Leigh-Anne didn’t pause the story she was telling other than to briefly flash them a white grin, and Rita waved from where she was painting Cara’s toenails, almost knocking over the open bottle of polish in the process. Louis, however, was a different story.

She’d been conversing with Jourdan and Jesy, enthusiastic as ever, right up until the moment she laid eyes on Harry. Her sentence cut off at “so I told her to go ahead and fuck right off—” when her eyes blew wide and she immediately turned to look at Eleanor, probably for answers.

Harry took it as a confirmation. Eleanor hadn’t told one of her closest friends that she was inviting her mortal enemy. Whoops.

With just a shake of her head to clear it, Louis was back in action, standing up and hopping over to kneel under Eleanor’s flat screen telly. “I’m picking a movie for later,” she announced to no protest from the other girls, her voice just a touch higher and stiffer than usual. No one appeared to notice.

Harry hesitantly took a seat beside Jade, a friend she often paired up with for partner work in maths class. Jade gave her a brilliant grin and asked, “Do you want me to paint your nails?” and Harry nodded, smiling shyly.

An hour passed, and Harry saw the other side of it with all twenty of her nails painted a pretty lavender that matched Eleanor’s, also a result of Jade’s handiwork. So far, she was encouraged that she’d managed to get by without being melted into a pathetic puddle of insecurity by Louis Tomlinson’s heated laser eyes. Perhaps the worst was yet to come.

Harry actually was having a great time; the girls were devouring their stockpile of sweets, and Matty was providing a soundtrack to the whole event, playing her guitar in the corner of the room while Ash drummed out complicated rhythms on her thighs. At one point, Harry and Louis amicably tossed popcorn into each others’ mouths, laughing uncertainly when they’d miss every time. She held up a hand mirror to examine the makeup Jade had insisted would go with her nails, ignoring Harry’s argument that she’d only have to take it off to go to sleep. For the first time in awhile, she was smiling back at herself wholeheartedly.

Eventually, Louis bounded up from Eleanor’s bed and stretched out her arms and back, hands flexed at the ends. “El,” she said, “D’you mind if I shower? I came pretty much straight from footie practice.”

A few other girls looked up at that. “Oh same,” Li jumped in, “Me and Harry got our stuff and came right over.”

Cara waved her hand up in the air, calling, “Me too!”

“Hate to add to it,” Jesy started, “But Leigh and I had the same situation with cheer practice. I feel pretty grotty right now to be honest.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes good-naturedly and replied, “Okay, we get it. You’re all super cool and talented jocks.” Harry let out a conspicuous self-deprecating chuckle at the sarcastic remark, and everyone there on the football team (even _Louis_ ) gave that a laugh.

But then Eleanor casually uttered, “Pair up though, so you don’t use too much water,” which was at first all fine and sensible.

That is, right up until Cara jumped on Li’s back, shouting comically for her to carry her “to the manmade rain!” while Jesy and Leigh-Anne had already laid claim on Eleanor’s own bathroom.

So that left…just Harry and Louis.

The look on Louis’ face made it clear she’d deduced the same thing. With an awkward inclination of her head toward the doorway, the two of them left the room together.

As Louis led her toward the bathroom down the hall, Harry’s heart started going crazy. She could feel all the extra blood it was pumping go straight to her cheeks, and her state was reflected in her unsteady footsteps. Louis opened the door and stepped aside to let Harry pass before closing again.

And then, without a word, she turned her back and started to strip off.

See, the thing is, Harry was really, _really_ trying not to be creepy about the whole thing, but it was just—

Harry had kind of accepted that she liked girls. Not more than guys, of course. Probably. Maybe. Like, it was somewhat possible that she was a lesbian, but with sixteen years and zero sexual experience under her belt, how was she to know? And with Louis two feet away from her, caramel waves cascading down her smooth back, delicate shoulder blades pushing at her tan skin, waist deliciously pulled in from the curves of her breasts and her _arse_ …how could anyone be wishing for a man?

Louis turned on and got in the shower, and it occurred to Harry that she should probably be getting naked too. So with a terribly ironic drop of her panties, she joined Louis in the shower.

They fumbled around for a minute just trying to get their bearings. The shower was the type that extended upwards from an average-sized bathtub, so they had a little bit of room for navigating, but not much in terms of width. They took turns under the spray of the water, and Harry dropped the bottle of body wash when Louis handed it over her shoulder, so as to prevent giving Harry a full frontal view. The timidity and nervousness of the whole ordeal was almost tangible.

Harry’s turn with the shampoo did not go well at all. She was directly under the showerhead, fussing with her curls, which had gone knotted and ratty with the dampness of her hair. The seconds ticked by as she attempted to wrangle the mess on top of her head into some sort of washable order. Louis let out a testy huff from behind her.

“Styles,” she said, and Harry could just picture what she looked like. In her mind’s eye, Louis was slippery wet and gloriously naked, but still tapping her foot impatiently nevertheless. “If you could hurry it up a touch? I’m getting chilly over here.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. She flipped the cap of the shampoo open, holding it up to squirt some out into her waiting palm. Of course, the bottle slipped out of her hand and crashed to the bathtub floor. “Oh my— I—,”

“Honestly,” Louis groused immediately in reaction. In the space of three seconds, she’d picked up the shampoo bottle, taken some, curled her fingers into Harry’s hair, and stepped incredibly close. “Are you completely useless, Harry?” she huffed, but somehow her tone sounded warm. One could almost call it fond.

Louis carried on washing Harry’s hair for her, fingers carding through her wet curls, and it got harder and harder for Harry to control herself. _Don’t moan don’t moan don’t moan_ she kept repeating in her mind, but it was _so_ hard when it reminded her of the way she sometimes pulled a bit at her own hair late at night when she had fingers inside herself. Harry could feel the tips of Louis’ nipples brushing delicately against her sensitive back, and she was starting to get wet _not_ from the shower, and—

She couldn’t help the low “Oh,” that slipped out of her mouth.

Louis paused, and for a second Harry absolutely wanted to disappear from the Earth. But then, like some sort of angelic temptress, she moved even closer to Harry and lightly pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.

Harry was going to turn around, going to kiss Louis right then and there, going to ask to touch her the way she’d always wanted, the same way she’d seen in her best and most frustrating dreams. She’d never wanted anything so badly.

That was when the door shook from a series of forceful knocks, and Li could be heard calling, “Harry hurry up, I need to borrow your phone so I can call me mum!” while knocking on the door as loud as a bomb.

Louis stepped away like a frightened animal, and Harry’s fists clenched so forcefully she could feel her newly-painted nails branding her own skin with little half-moons. “Coming,” she growled, irony once again not lost on her.

They finished washing their hair as quickly as possible. Each acted as if the other didn’t exist.

When they emerged, dried off and changed, Harry had to take a deep breath to try to calm herself. It wasn’t Li’s fault. In fact, she might have even thought she was saving Harry by giving her a reason to get out of there more quickly. There was no way she could’ve possibly known what had been going on in the shower, and it was ultimately better that way.

They returned to Eleanor’s bedroom and found the rest of the girls setting up the film, Leigh-Anne, Jesy, Cara, and Li freshly showered. Harry unlocked her phone for Li (her passcode was Q-B-E-Y, because it was a funny pun involving American football quarterbacks and Beyonce) and handed it over. Li didn’t take the phone, just gave her a smug smirk and a tiny salute. Unbelievable.

Harry rose to go to the toilet; it was better to clear her head in an isolated room. She went back to the bathroom she and Louis had been in, down the hall from Eleanor’s room. Holding her wrists under cold sink water helped to both cool her body temperature and calm her down. When she went to leave the bathroom, though, the sound of two voices in the hall almost immediately on the other side of the closed door made her stop.

“What’s wrong?” One voice said, clearly Eleanor’s. Her gentle lilt was quite distinctive.

“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’? Why would you do this?” That was unmistakably Louis, sounding moody and upset. Harry took a quiet step even closer to the door between them.

“Why would I do what?” Eleanor exclaimed in a whisper. Her voice was amusing, being too-high pitched to sound as exasperated as she was clearly going for.

Louis blurted, “Invite Harry!” and _oh_.

Harry let out an exhale and let her head drop forward until her forehead rested against the white door. She almost couldn’t hear the next bit, because she was up to her ears in disappointment.

_Still?_

“You’re still on that, even now?” Eleanor asked, echoing Harry’s thoughts. “You guys seemed fine together, you were getting along earlier!”

There was a short silence. “I just don’t like her,” Louis said.

“That’s bullshit!” Eleanor responded heatedly. “You only hate on her to have someone to hate on, when you know she’s really not bad. And…and Lou, I love you and I really didn’t want to drag it out of you before you were ready, but you have to notice what I do! You have to notice there’s some denial going on here.”

“What are you talking about,” Louis said sharply, and it wasn’t even a question, just a low and dangerous threat.

“Lou,” Eleanor sighed. “I’m your best friend. Nothing could ever change that, you know that, don’t you?”

“ _What are you talking about_ ,”  was the only reply she got. Harry almost couldn’t comprehend what her ears were picking up.

“I see things, Lou! I don’t want to seem like I’m calling you out or attacking you, but you’re always watching her and talking about her, and you seemed incredibly uncomfortable back when you were with Greg last year. I just want you to know that it’s _okay_. Harry’s nice and I thought that spending a bit of time together might help you settle your differences—”

“Well that’s not your place,” Louis interrupted fiercely, and Harry had never heard her say anything more strongly.

Another pause. “I know,” Eleanor sighed.

A set of footsteps started up. They got quieter and further away until they were gone. Harry heard one more sigh of quiet lamentation, probably Eleanor. Footsteps sounded again, and then there was nothing.

The next morning, Harry woke up to pillow fights, chocolate chip pancakes, cries of admitted secrets (“My real name’s Liam!” “Oh my god, mine’s Ashton!”), and Louis saying “Can you move?” coldly when Harry sat down to breakfast next to Eleanor. Harry, as always, said yes.

 

-

 

When Harry opens up the coffee shop at six in the morning the next day, the sun has almost completely risen above the horizon. Most of the sky is bruised grey with cloud cover, but Harry can see orange and pink glowing in the distance where the gloom ends.

Niall arrives fifteen minutes or so after Harry, bleached and pale as ever but somehow completely colorful. “H,” he says, “You’ll never believe it! I made meself not one, but two famous friends yesterday!”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. “Who could you possibly have met yesterday other than Louis Tomlinson?”

“Get this—wait, speaking of Louis,” he puts a hand under his chin while his elbow rests on the counter. “What was with you two yesterday? You were all blushy and awkward and ‘uh…um…like..’” he imitates her slow, deep voice. “And then she was all, ‘I’m deeply sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, blah blah blah, let’s make love—”

“She was _not_ like that,” Harry rolls her eyes. “…And neither was I,” she adds, sounding significantly less sure. “Anyway, there was absolutely nothing sexual about our interaction. And it’s nothing, we went to secondary school together and she just used to be kind of manipulative and bratty to me.”

Niall’s mouth folds into a little unconvinced straight line. “Sucks. Yeah, alright, maybe it wasn’t sexual,” he gives in. “Actually, I guess you’re right, seeing as I think I ran into her out on a date after I got off work last night.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Harry frowns. “What? With who?”

Niall holds one finger up, scoops his phone out of his apron pocket, and turns the illuminated screen to Harry. In his contacts, right under ‘ _!!Louis Tomlinson_ ’ is ‘ _!!!!!!Zayn MALik’_ and Harry yips, “She was out on a date with Zayn Malik?!”

Niall shrugs. “I dunno, but they were getting dinner together just a couple blocks away from here.”

“Where specifically?”

Niall raises his eyebrows at Harry’s interest, but doesn’t comment. “Just the Strada down the road,” he says.

“Oh, that can be casual,” Harry breathes out, way more relieved than she has a right to be.

“Sure,” Niall agrees, crossing his arms. “But he was pretty dressed up.”

That irks Harry a bit, but Zayn is always dressed up. He’s basically Britain’s fastest-rising film star of the day, and is known widely for his ability to look incredibly suave but a bit rough all at once. And Harry had already known Zayn and Louis were friends, having run in similar social circles for a couple years now.

Before Harry can contemplate it any more, Louis herself is walking up to the door, snugly wrapped in a tan coat and light blue scarf. Harry checks the time; it’s only half seven, and Louis is about to be their first customer of the day.

When the door opens, Louis comes in with a gust of wind. Her hair is tousled to lovely imperfection. It falls in layers a couple inches past her shoulders and gets lighter at the ends just barely. The blue-eyed girl flashes Niall a grin that melts into something softer for Harry. Smaller, but warmer. Harry would put her hand on the coffee machine a thousand times just to see that smile again.

Louis takes a few slow steps forward, the heel of her boot coming out prominently first, and then asks cheekily, “If I order a coffee, will that leave me with more burns to tend to?”

The corners of Harry’s lips quirk up, and her gaze flicks down to hide her blush. “No,” she answers. “Contrary to popular belief, I am sometimes a capable human being.”

Louis chuckles and starts to dig through her bag. She pulls out a tube of what must be the burn ointment she was talking about and shakes it lightly in the air. “Well just in case,” she says as she slides payment for her drink onto the counter, “I’ll be waiting.” With that, she turns and goes to sit at a table.

Niall elbows Harry, beaming like his favorite football team is making a comeback to win a game. Quite conspicuously, he disappears to the backroom and doesn’t come out while Harry prepares Louis’ cup of coffee.

Harry ambles up to Louis’ table with her porcelain mug in her hands, careful not to spill. She places it on the table and then hovers for a moment, unsure as to whether Louis wants her to sit down with her or not, but then Louis looks up and nods toward the empty seat across from her. Harry takes it.

Louis is scrolling through something on her phone for just a second before putting it down, with “Sorry, it’s Zayn,” as her apology.

“Oh,” Harry breathes, absolutely wilting in her seat. “Yeah. Congratulations on that, I guess.”

Lights appear instantly in Louis’ eyes. “Thanks! We’re both really excited about it, it’s a huge step for both of us obviously, and now that we’re living together too, I just hope I don’t get sick of him!” She laughs good-naturedly.

Harry heart drops to the bottom of her stomach. _Stupid_ , she’s so fucking _stupid_. She’d told herself not to hope for or expect anything, but she’s never been able to help herself when it comes to Louis. “You’re moved in together already?” she asks slowly, desperately.

Louis’ eyebrows fold downward, and she goes, “Yeah, I…wait. What?”

“I mean,” Harry swallows, “That’s really great.”

Louis sucks in a breath and does not exhale when she stammers, “I don’t think you— I’m a lesbian.”

_Oh my god._ “Oh—well. Amazing,” is what comes out of Harry’s mouth, relief painfully obvious in the sputter. She wants to slap herself. “But what? You said it was a big step?”

Somehow, Louis smiles and frowns simultaneously. “I totally thought you were talking about the new movie deal?” she attempts to clarify.

Harry shakes her head in an embarrassed staccato. “No. No, I had not heard of the movie deal.” She’s so glad there’s nobody else around to witness her humiliation.

“It’s going to be my directorial debut for film. We just released to the press that Zayn’s starring in it.” Louis lets her head tilt to the side, eyes narrowing at Harry in examination. “We’re just flatmates. I’m gay, I’m like a six on the Kinsey scale.” she adds to drive the point home.

Harry nods and wets her lips nervously. “I fancy myself about a five point four.”

Louis smiles closed-mouth at that, lips pressed tight together and eyes adorably crinkly at the corners. “Good to know.” Then her expression shifts into something more serious. “In fact, I think I could tell, back in school and all. I think subconsciously I knew that you were like me in that way, and that was part of why I was always so nasty. Like, there I was, a huge lesbian and hating myself for it, always trying to explain away my feelings and urges. And then there you were, queer and at least somewhat more comfortable with it, fully more comfortable as a human being. Every time you continued to be nice and lovely just made me more bitter that I couldn’t be that way.” She looked up at Harry, searching. “And I’m sorry for making you feel shitty because I wasn’t able to deal with myself.”

Harry’s brain is buzzing, but time is slowing down in the best way and somehow even just breathing feels easier. It’s not hard for her to smile. “I’m not going to say it’s okay,” she tells the other woman, “but that makes it a lot better.”

“I’ll keep making it better,” Louis promises. Beyond all logic, it sounds long-term. Harry’s alright with that. Finally, Louis picks up the dumb burn ointment and scar cream and starts applying them in little bits to Harry’s open palms. But if you ask Harry, she could swear that they’re healing more than just the burns on her hands.

Eventually, customers do start to trickle in. Niall reappears from the back and Harry reluctantly finds her way to the counter, but Louis doesn’t leave. She orders a tea, then a pastry, then a water, and Harry keeps bringing them to her. They glance at each other too much, sometimes pulling funny faces. Harry takes her break with Louis and they really catch up. Questions and jokes fly between them, and Harry can’t believe that they couldn’t get it together enough in school to figure out how well they get on.

Harry’s smiling dopily and leaning way too far across the table than is needed for Louis to hear her properly. It’s most likely clear as day how attracted she is, but Louis happens to be leaning in the same amount, so. Harry’s not worried.

“My break’s almost up,” she comments ruefully, chin in her palm and sighing with the same dreaminess that she used to when she was a teenager.

Louis leans back in her chair, both hands coming up to tangle in her hair and push it back. “Am I imagining this?” she bursts out suddenly. “Am I completely alone in how I’m feeling right—”

“No,” Harry assures her, at last confident enough to be sure of what’s going on and admit it. “You’re far from alone if you feel anything like I do right now.” She slides her arm closer to Louis’ on the table. Louis covers the back of Harry’s hand with her own.

Suddenly Niall’s appeared and is saying, “Harry, mate, your break’s up.” The two of them don’t move except for to look at Niall. “Oh,” he stops, catching sight of their hands. “Actually, business is pretty slow today. You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Wait,” Harry frowns, “you’re my employee, you can’t just dismiss me!”

Niall narrows his eyes. “ _You can take the rest of the day off_.” Then he disappears back to where he came from.

“I think that’s been settled for you,” Louis laughs. “Do you want to go somewhere with me?”

Harry, to no one’s surprise, says yes.

 

+

 

They go several places, actually. Louis holds Harry’s hand in the bookstore, jumps on her back at the park, bops her cone on Harry’s nose at the ice cream stand, gets recognized once on the street, and then backs Harry up against the wall at the front door of her flat.

Harry fingers the collar of Louis’ coat, finally pulling her in all the way to seal their lips together. One of Louis’ hands is at the wall right next to Harry’s waist and the other comes up to the junction between her neck and her shoulder, thumb pressing lightly into the top end of Harry’s collarbone. Harry’s losing feeling in her fingertips, thrumming with energy and pleasant weightlessness everywhere else. Meanwhile Louis’ sucking at her bottom lip, licking her way in with finesse. Harry pulls her closer.

The truth is, they’ve been together all damn day, and Harry still wants more of Louis. She can feel the stars winking somewhere far away in the night sky when she pulls back and murmurs, “This may be quite forward, but. Do you want to come in?”

Louis rests her head in the crook of Harry’s neck and replies, “This whole day’s been forward. We might as well make it thematic.”

As soon as she’s received permission, Harry is fiddling with the keys and jiggling the door open. They make it to the bedroom comically quick, and as soon as they’re in it Harry’s ripping her shirt off and hauling Louis in by the hips. It doesn’t take long for Louis’ top to join Harry’s on the floor, and Harry moans breathily just because she’s so amazed that this is happening. Yet, as crazy as it is, it feels like it was always going to.

Louis pushes Harry backward onto the bed and goes straight for her neck, kissing and nipping at it until she finds the spot that makes Harry let out noise. Her little hands are sliding up Harry’s sides and thumbing at the band of her bra. She sits up on Harry’s lap to remove her own and then undoes Harry’s. As she flings both bras off the bed without a care where they land, Harry scoots up until her head meets a pillow, and then she props herself up on her elbows to watch Louis crawl over her. Louis’ advancing literally on her hands and knees with a wicked simper on her lips, breasts swaying slightly with the motion.

The air is hot and the room is dark, but Harry can see everything in the moonlight that filters in from the window, leaving it all bathed in warm blue. Louis’ still on all fours above her and Harry slides a hand down her back until she reaches cotton and lace. “Can I?” Harry exhales, and Louis nods. She lifts each leg to accommodate Harry pulling her panties off at the knees, but Harry’s barely got time to relish the feel of her rounded arse before Louis completely switches their position.

She slips off of Harry to the side and opens her legs to pull Harry in between them, and _oh god_ Harry can feel her wetness pressing into her back just above the tailbone. Louis’ voice rumbles, “Let’s see what we’ve got here, yeah love?” before she’s flicking her fingertips across Harry’s nipples and caressing down over Harry’s tits and stomach.

Despite their height difference, Louis easily hooks her chin over Harry’s shoulder to take a look at her own ministrations. “You’re beautiful, babe,” she whispers, turning her mouth into Harry’s neck from the side. One of her hands slides down to press Harry’s panties against her pussy, watching in awe as the fabric darkens up, wet.

“Take ‘em off,” Harry prompts, voice low and rough. Louis’ breasts are pushed up against Harry’s back in the most incredible way, and Harry’s so wet.

Louis complies easily, and once those are out of the way Louis rubs at her inner thigh just centimeters away from where Harry needs her. “Do you want me to touch you?” she asks as if Harry’s desperation isn’t apparent.

The only reply she gets is “Louis, _oh_ ,” but she gets the message.

Instantly, two of Louis’ fingers slide over Harry. The curly-haired girl starts moaning in earnest at that. Louis keeps stroking her, working her up and teasing at her clit with awed whispers of “so wet for me” and “prettiest little pussy” that go straight through Harry’s ear and into her memory so she’ll never forget it.

There’s no warning when Louis slips her middle finger all the way inside, pumping it in and out just twice before she adds another. It isn’t long until Louis is crooking and rubbing her fingers against Harry’s walls in search of that one spot that’ll make her—

“Ah!” That’s it, Louis’ touching her just right, picking up the pace until she’s fucking Harry fast with three fingers, bending each time at just the perfect place. “Yeah, yeah, gonna come,” Harry lets out in a pleased cry. The flame in her lower tummy washes through her every nerve ending, and Harry comes harder than she ever has in her life, Louis slowing down to work her through it until Harry’s head falls back on Louis’s shoulder.

After a minute of recuperation, Harry’s frankly exhausted but is still driven to make Louis feel good too. “Wanna…wanna eat you out,” she says, but Louis just slides out from behind her and turns to kiss her cheek.

“Aw, don’t worry about that right now baby,” she mumbles. “If you just help me out a little bit I’ll be all set.”

“Anything,” Harry leans over to kiss her lips quickly. “What do you want?”

“Just want you to open your legs a bit more and straighten this one,” Louis explains, grasping at Harry’s calf to move it where she wants it. Then, she rubs her fingers and palm in between Harry’s legs to gather some wetness from her orgasm, and then she spreads it out on Harry’s thigh. This is where Harry realizes that Louis is actually going to ride her thigh; she’s prepping Harry so that Louis doesn’t have to rub off on dry skin, and positioning herself with one leg on either side of Harry’s.

She lowers herself and starts to really rock against Harry’s thigh. Harry can feel her dripping wetness and grinding her clit into Harry’s skin. She leans up to mouth at Louis’ breasts and suck at her nipples, while her hands have already found Louis’ bum. She’s squeezing and giving Louis’ arse light little smacks that don’t even qualify as real spanks when Louis’ body seizes up as she comes, still rubbing on Harry till she’s finished.

They clean up and snuggle into each other under Harry’s comforter, spooning naked and satisfied, soon to be lulled asleep by the sound of each other’s breathing.

This time, Harry wakes up to her own legs tangled in another’s, sunlight streaming through the window, and Louis, eyes alive and swimming.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys. If you're interested, I'm on tumblr at [harisbueller](http://www.harisbueller.tumblr.com), so you can follow me if you like!


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